


say your truth

by Shen_Gong_Oops



Series: My Bingo Squares [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke Bingo, Clarke gets dumped but girl bounces back, Clarke's got some issues mentally btw, F/M, Gonna warn you now just to be safe, He's like the only person she's honest with, She and Bellamy play Truth, They work for a catering company, based on a book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shen_Gong_Oops/pseuds/Shen_Gong_Oops
Summary: Towards the beginning of summer, her boyfriend emails her stating it's best that they take a break from their relationship. His fellowship is in Africa and she's secretly a mess. In a spur of the moment decision, she ends up working for a catering company and oddly enough playing Truth like a pair of middle schoolers with one of her co-workers.





	say your truth

**Author's Note:**

> Based on The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen. It was one of my favorite books growing up. Sorry if it looks like I don’t like Abby. That’s because I don’t.

_ The library was awful today. I know you love the job and I know I should be grateful for the opportunity but I just need to vent. Josephine was her usual Josephine self: spoiled, bratty, did everything she could to make me feel like less of a person. Everything I did had to be one upped by her. Or she had to make herself seem superior in every way. And Jade follows her around like a puppy. Whatever Josephine does, Jade does too. I know it’s childish and I know you have more important things to worry about than whether or not I’m making friends. It’s just lonely without you. Wells is so busy with Glass and you’re in Africa saving the world. I’ll get used to it. I know I will. Josephine and Jade won’t get to me. But I really wish you were here. _

_ Love, Clarke _

* * *

Clarke hid in the back corner in the den nearest the bar waiting for Wells, and by extension Glass, to make their way to her. They had been stopped by a member of the council, probably inquiring about Wells' summer internship at City Hall. Her friend, and by extension his date, were taking too long. She was dying out here. She had carefully navigated the waters, treading long enough to keep herself afloat. She spoke when spoken to, never engaging anyone herself. People asked about her summer job at the library; about her relationship with Cillian; about her pre-med courses at Sanctum State. Her responses carefully chosen. Each answer never giving a whole truth. She loved the library (truth) and working there was a dream come true (she wanted to claw her eyes out); she loved her boyfriend Cillian (truth) and loved how he was halfway around the world and living out his passion (she was proud of him, truly happy he was accepted into the fellowship but was Africa necessary?) She loved her pre-med course (complete lie, she contemplated lighting her textbooks on fire during the first week of school.) 

Now if only Wells would leave Diana Sydney to her hor’ derves and come save a friend that would be great.

Looking about the room, she noticed a few men milling about on the other end of the bar. They were talking loudly about some college football game that one of them had lost a sizeable amount on when her mother made her way through the crowd to her.

"Party seems to be going well." Clarke said, aiming for something pleasant.

Her mother shrugged, hand latching onto Clarke's. She recognized a few of the men’s faces but could only name one: Marcus Kane. "The party would be better if the guests were being fed more. Do you mind checking how things are going?"

From the corner of her eye, Clarke could see the bartender's hands clench around the neck of a bottle of Bordeaux. There were two servers on staff tonight carrying trays around, there was the bartender, and the very pregnant owner of the Dawn Catering Company, who was operating out of the kitchen. When they arrived, there was an issue on whether or not her mother had requested for someone from the catering company to man the bar. According to the owner Diyoza, her mother had insisted she retained another service for the bar but her mother insisted that she requested for Diyoza to provide the service. Even if the contract showed Diyoza was correct, one of the servers was relocated from milling about the floor to manning the bar.

"It's fine." Marcus said, leaning against the mahogany of the bar, "Bellamy here is fantastic at whipping up drinks. Can I have another by the way?"

Clarke made her way to the kitchen, weaving passed guests. Doing her best to dissuade anyone from striking up a conversation with her. She made it out of the den and into the hallway. She watched as the male server pushed open the kitchen door, silver tray of pigs-in-blankets in hand. The female server had her empty tray tucked under her left arm. She raced over. He picked a pig off of the tray and tossed it up into the air towards the female, who easily caught it in her mouth.

"Undefeatable." She sung, pushing open the door to the kitchen.

Clarke entered slowly behind the girl. Watching as a heavily pregnant woman, her brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, stood in front of the oven pulling out a tray of cheese puffs. The girl stood by the counter armed with a spatula, swiftly plating something onto her tray. "You should have called Rae in. She would have helped." The girl said.

"I wouldn't do that to her." The pregnant woman answered. She stood up straight, hand supporting the swell. "What I should have done was put Miller on tonight. But no, he had to go on vacation this week."

The girl turned around with a refilled plate and noticed Clarke, "Do you need help? Bathroom is at the other end of the hall." She said with a smile. Using her free hand she gestured left, “It’s opposite the den.”

The pregnant woman turned to face her. The top two buttons of her white blouse were popped open, a thin scar ran across the expanse of her neck. "She's not happy?" Clarke shook her head.

The girl raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The woman sighed, "O this is Clarke. Her mom is our employer."

O's lips pursed. "Oh." She nodded before leaving the kitchen.

"I was anticipating having three servers tonight. I was anticipating Bell to be working the floor." The bartender she assumed. The woman extended the spatula O had been using. "How good are you with a spatula?"

That's how Clarke found herself in the kitchen rotating out trays of cheese puffs and crab cakes. Trays of pigs-in-blankets and jalapeño poppers. O, or Octavia, bounced in and out of the kitchen. A comment or two about a hunter or a gatherer. Murphy, the male server, would drop the tray onto the counter loudly and grumble about them fucking hunters and that next time Bell would be the one dealing with them and Murphy'd be on bar duty. Once he left, Diyoza informed her Murphy said that every time but Bellamy was the only one who ever manned the bar. Better with people than Murphy. And not as chatty as Octavia.

Adding in a new tray of crab cakes, Octavia stormed in followed by Murphy. Both with matching dark red stains on their white button-ups. "Drunk hunters are the absolute worst."

The door to the kitchen opened, Abigail Griffin now entering. Octavia's eyes widened as she dragged Murphy over to the sink, distracting herself with dabbing at their stains. Her mother's eyes were narrowed in annoyance but when she noticed Clarke in front of the oven she cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Clarke?"

"I had questions about the world of catering."

Her mother nodded, letting out a sigh. Before she could say anything Diyoza stepped away from the counter. "Is there a problem?"

Her mother and Diyoza discussed the lack of food offered to the guests and how both servers were chatting causing them to bump into one of her guests. Diyoza turned her head to look at the pair. A silent conversation happening amongst them.

"I have wine now on a guest and my carpet."

Her mother walked out of the room, pointedly asking if Clarke would be returning to the party. 

"We weren't talking. I was out of napkins and stole a few from Murphy's plate." Octavia explained. Their shirts now a purple color.

Diyoza thanked Clarke for her help. The woman all but shoved her out the door, telling her to enjoy herself. "Ever want a job in catering you're welcome to call me. Always need another."

* * *

She sat on her balcony. She could see the caterers packing up their van. Octavia walked alongside a male pushing a server cart. "It took me a bit to recognize Clarke, the girl helping Diyoza." Octavia’s low was low but carried through the quiet night. "You remember her?"

"I don't think so." She watched as the male slowly loaded the cart into the back of the van. She hadn't recognized the deep baritone voice. Bellamy she presumed.

"You definitely do." Octavia countered, "Her dad-" Clarke pulled her knees closer into herself. Bracing herself for the comment. Everyone made the same one. While she should be used to it by now, the pain was still raw. But Octavia was different "-volunteered at the soup kitchen on Walden, remember?"

It took a beat before Bellamy spoke. "Tall, blond guy? He'd give us extra bread rolls?"

"Yeah… those were some great bread rolls. The highest quality bread rolls."

It looked like Bellamy nodded but she couldn't be sure. He closed the door to the van after everything was packed. His head turned to look back at the house, and for a moment his eyes met hers. "I don't think they were the highest quality bread rolls. Not like we had much to compare to."

* * *

_ Clarke, _

_ I have written and rewritten this email several times so I apologize for taking time to respond. _

_ In your past emails you’ve written about your disinterest working at the library. Talking about how you haven’t bonded with your coworkers but yielded unnecessary pettiness at one another. At least you acknowledged the childish nature in your last email. I wonder if you are taking your job at the library seriously and hope that in light of what I need to say you will remain there, and dedicated to your work. _

_ Then there is your growing reliance on me as portrayed in your last email. Our expectations for this relationship appear to be different. I believe a break from both each other and our relationship would be best. It will allow for us to understand what we want for ourselves and for our relationship. We are entering into our senior year and this crucial year will affect proceeding into medical school the following year. We both need to be determined and diligent in our work and I am unsure if we continue with your relationship that will be possible. I hope you understand this is the best option. _

_ I will be back stateside in early August. We can convene then to discuss if continuing our relationship is what’s best. _

_ Cillian _

* * *

Her day at the library had been like every other. Another day spent contemplating jumping out a window. In true Josephine fashion, she went out of her way to make Clarke out to be an invalid, incapable of handling the most menial of tasks. The only duties Josephine deemed her smart enough to handle was emptying out the outdoor bin where people could return their books or changing the posters for upcoming events in the entryway. A person had come up to her, asking about book recommendations but Josephine made a show about how Clarke wouldn’t know anything. “Just a trainee.” Clarke wanted to smack that sugary-sweet smile off of Josephine’s face. Apparently, she and her fiance were having issues.

Cillian's email left her feeling numb.

Her house was empty, her mother called away for a weekend long conference upstate. Her home felt cold and quiet, like a mausoleum. Sure, she and her mother hadn’t had a well and true conversation since the accident. Mainly they spoke about Abby's job and Clarke's pre-med courses. Both carefully tiptoeing around the other but at the moment the stillness was unbearable. Clarke needed to get out, suffocating in the silence. She climbed into her car and drove. No destination in mind.

A break. Cillian wanted a break. Sometime to find themselves, to find what they wanted in life. The pause button hit on their relationship. Breaks were never good. Simply a means to delay the inevitable break-up.

_ A break _ . What were they the dysfunctional Ross and Rachel?

When the light turned red, she heaved an exasperated sigh. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a beat, her eyes drifting upwards just enough to see the road. She thought they were strong going into this summer apart. The loneliness was expected. She was always lonely. Had been for a few years now. But she was wrong. Had he met someone else? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She wasn’t the same wide-eyed girl she was in her juvenescence. The light inside her diminished the night his heart stopped beating. Cillian made her feel alive, for a few passionate moments, before she fell back into the darkness of the world. They weren’t strong enough- she wasn’t strong enough.

The streetlight reflected off of a white van a row over and two cars up. The van stopped before making a right on red. On the back of the van was a rising sun. Instead of a straight line for the horizon, it had three curving lines in varying greens, blues, and pinks. An aurora borealis. The Dawn Catering Company.

Once the light changed, Clarke followed after the van. It made a left and then a right at the stop sign before continuing down the winding road coming to a stop at Arrow Manor in the historic district.

She drove passed the van three times debating whether or not to pull over. On the fourth try she did. Her hand hovered over the door's handle. Taking a breath, she willed herself out of the car. The van was parked about twenty feet away, both back doors wide open. The back looked half empty. A server's tray was placed onto the ground beside the bumper. 

"Can I help you?" Beside her, a woman stood with a hand on her leg brace. Dark brown hair pulled tight into a ponytail. Her brown eyes narrowed. Clarke never thought she'd see those brown eyes again.

Raven Reyes. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"I was looking for Diyoza."

Arms crossing at her chest, Raven nodded her head towards the building. "Kitchen's in the back."

A few moments of tension passed between the two of them. Murphy grumbling about serving forks broke silence.

"I didn't realize you worked for Diyoza." Clarke vaguely remembered Octavia mentioning someone named Rae could have helped the night of their party.

"I think you'll understand why I didn't want to work last weekend." A hand rested on Raven's shoulder. Her dropped to her arms to the side, eyes growing soft. It had been two years. Two years since Clarke found out her first boyfriend post-accident had made her the other woman. Broke up an engagement.

The brace was new. The only time she saw Raven, the other stood in a little black dress and wearing a pair of white Chuck Taylors. The woman had a white sash that read ‘Head Bitch in Charge’. She was out with friends celebrating getting an internship. Ended up drunk on Clarke's front porch demanding if she was seeing a Finn Collins. Now that she thinks about it, Octavia may have been the girl to drag Raven from the property before anything else happened.

"What's up?" Murphy asked, dropping his chin onto the other's shoulder. Raven tried to move out of the way but Murphy stayed with her. Following everywhere Raven moved. The other woman chuckled, gently knocking her head against his. "Diyoza is in the kitchen silently freaking out. O washed the utensils last night and probably forgot the serving forks."

Raven rolled her eyes, hand pressing against her thigh. She lifted herself into the back of the van to search.

"It's not like O forgot your supposed to put them-"

"Got 'em."

Murphy groaned, cursing Octavia's name. Clarke followed Murphy and Raven up to the building. Diyoza stood in front of the stoves sliding three trays of meatballs onto the rack. Diyoza sees her and laughs. "Come to see the inner workings of the world of catering again?"

Clarke cut off anything else Diyoza could have said. "Did you mean it? When you offered me a job?"

The woman didn't say anything. Her blue eyes scanning Clarke from head to toe. Maybe this was a bad idea. First rash decision she had made since- jumping into bed with Finn. She shouldn't. She had already been struggling to stay afloat. The email felt like an anchor wrapping around her ankle.

Never saying yes or no, Diyoza explained the typically clothing attire for servers. White dress shirt and either black slacks or a black skirt. She discussed when Clarke would be paid, when Clarke would get her work schedule, emphasized Clarke would be joining a hectic world. At the library, she was put through an extensive training course. With Dawn Catering, she jumped headfirst into shark infested waters.

Diyoza called Raven over. The other lifted up an empty server's tray, balancing it with the left hand. "Firstly, make sure your tray is clear of used napkins at all times." Murphy balled up a napkin and chucked it at Raven. Without batting an eye, Raven caught the napkin on the tray easily. "No one wants to eat off a gross ass tray." She then flicked her wrist listlessly, tossing the balled up napkin in a perfect arc towards the garbage bin.

"Gross ass." Murphy repeated.

"Two," To emphasize her part, Raven held up two fingers, "you don't matter. You are a spec in the carpet. A shadow on the wall. Hold out your tray, paste a stupid smile on-" Diyoza coughed and sent a glare at Raven, "and ask if they want whatever shit is on your plate."

Diyoza grumbled to herself, turning from the oven. "Please do not say it like that. Yes, you are not a guest of the party. You are hired to facilitate it, not enjoy it. Smile and make sure to clearly state what is on your tray. Even if you have- I don't know gelite fish and uh haggish, say you have gelite fish and haggish."

Murphy held his empty tray towards Clarke. "Care for a shitball."

"Hey! Aurora's meatballs are divine!" While she sounded affronted, Diyoza still laughed, chucking a napkin at his head. Aurora? Was there another owner?

Raven walked over to the counter, plating meatballs onto her tray. She placed a small square of napkins onto the tray. She held the tray out to Clarke. Raven grumbled, the side of her fist pounding against the metal of her brace. She bent her knee slightly before extending it four times. Clarke didn't mean to stare but the brace took up a substantial part of Raven's leg. She wanted to ask if Raven would be okay but Clarke held her tongue. She assumed the other would be fine, it was her job. 

"Murphy you're on champagne." Diyoza called over her shoulder, gesturing to the crate in the corner. "Stemless flutes." Murphy sighs before walking over to the crates.

Raven has a tray of poppers. She holds out the tray towards Clarke. "To avoid gatherers, once a person takes two things off your plate, walk away." Gatherers? "Two and done. Otherwise they'll pick you clean."

Murphy, now armed with a tray of filled stemless champagne flutes. "If they don't let you leave they become hunters and hunters are assholes. Elbow them or knee 'em in the dick."

"Please don't do that." Diyoza grumbled.

Raven leaned against the door leading from the kitchen, not putting enough pressure to open it. “If you do a walkthrough and your tray ain't going, don't push it. Come back and get something else. I'd recommend swapping for meatballs but you already got 'em." Raven used her hip to push open the door. Silently telling her to keep her chin up.

"Don't forget to feed the old people!" Murphy called out.

Murphy and Raven flowed through the ballroom. The blushing soon-to-be bride plucking a champagne flute from Murphy's tray without turning away from the group she spoke with. A male tried to corner Raven with her poppers, a hunter. She simply opened her hips wider and limped in the opposite direction. Two and move, right. Holding her chin up, Clarke worked her way around the room. She nearly bumped into one of the bridesmaids before even one meatball was taken from her tray. Raven gripped Clarke's forearm, pulling her gently from where the bridesmaid stood wobbling in her too tall heels.

She makes it around the room without any huge complications. She angles the tray too much when allowing for one of the elderly women to pick from the meatballs. Nearly got cornered a few times by hunters and gatherers. During her second tour around the room, this time with ham biscuits, she did bump into one of the guests. He gesticulated wildly as she passed, smacking her right in the face. Her grip on the tray slipped. A few biscuits slid off but they never reached the floor. Instead they landed on Murphy's now empty server's tray.

He maneuvered himself swiftly through the crowd. "You get used to this." He whispered as he passed, returning to the kitchen to stock up on more champagne flutes. She couldn't imagine getting so used to catering that she'd know exactly when a mistake would happen. When hor' derves would hurtle down to the floor.

By the end of the party, they had narrowly avoided the soon-to-be bride having a breakdown. The napkins weren't to her liking. The engaged couples' names were followed by an ellipsis, implying that there could be an ending to their happiness. She did pretty well for at most three minutes of training if she did say so herself. The majority of her training came from being on the floor. Gatherers tend to stand closest to the doors. Getting their pick of the platter. Hunters were easy to spot. Certain gatherers carried themselves differently. Shoulders rolled back. Their hips squared. They stood like a wall, whether consciously or unconsciously, to prevent the server from traveling too far. Two and go, that’s it. Two and go.

Diyoza thought she had done well. So that was a plus. Asked for Clarke to call her on Monday to setup a schedule if she was interested.

It was a whole new experience being a caterer at a party. Growing up she had attended several high end parties a year: typically fundraisers for anything and everything. For once, no one tried seeking her out at this party. She was one with the wall. And no one cared to hold their tongues around walls. She knew more about this random family than she knew about her own family. 

Amidst packing the van, a horn behind them beeped in a rhythmic pattern. "Did she-" Murphy started but never finished his sentence.

"Guys I got wheels!" Octavia cheered, jumping from the front seat. "Your girl finally got a car."

Diyoza waddled over, hand on her stomach. "You bought an ambulance?"

"I bought the only car to embody my personality. It's a statement, like I am."

"Statement alright." Raven walked over. She placed her hand on the hood of the vehicle and chuckled. "You would buy an ambulance."

Bellamy climbed out of the passenger seat as everyone milled about observing the car. Octavia, noticing Clarke for the first time, raced over to her, “Clarke! Do you like it? My new car is refurbished and ready to take the world by storm. Bell,” she stopped talking for a moment to point him out “my brother over there, was against it but I think it’s original!”

“It’s also final sale.” Bellamy tacked on. He walked around to the back of the vehicle, throwing open the doors. Without a word being said, he held out his hand and helped Raven climb into the bed. Murphy quickly following after. He looked over at her and pointed to the back of the ambulance with his chin, “You in?”

Octavia began explaining they were heading down to the Ridge, Bellamy vehemently denied they were going there but Octavia ignored him. Clarke tried to answer the other, but anything she could of said felt trapped in her throat.

Looking at the ambulance brought back memories. The ice on the road. The brakes squealing. The world blending together in a hue of dark swirls as the car careened off the road. The fencepost. She could feel the air leaving her lungs as they did that night. Did the airbags deploy? She believed they did. The next half hour was a blur. But she remembered the fluorescent lights beaming down on her. Remembered the two bodies hovering over her. Her voice hoarse as she called out for her dad but never received an answer.

She hadn’t noticed Bellamy swiftly moving over to her. His voice was soft as he said her name. Everyone quietly watching what was going on.

“Sorry just tired. It was a long day at work and then coming here.” There she went lying again. “Think I’m going to head home for the night. Sleep it off.” She made her way back to her car but didn’t leave right away. She watched as Bellamy walked Diyoza back to her car. His aunt teasing him about something before affectionately messing up his already messy curls. He helped her into the van before jogging back over to the ambulance. Octavia waved goodbye as she pulled from the curb, calling out that she’d see Clarke for their next gig.

She made it back home in under thirty minutes. She hadn’t even realized she hadn’t thought about that damned email all night.

* * *

Catering was interesting to say the least. Diyoza ran the business like a tight ship. They had lists upon lists of things needed for each job and who was in charge of packing said things. They had a breakdown of whose turn it was to drive the van, whose turn it was to be on clean up tray - walking around collecting used glasses and napkins. No one wanted to do it, hence the need to rotate people through the position. A list for who was on liquids. Clarke only recently got put into liquid rotation. Octavia's name was permanently stricken from the list apparently. A list for who did what during dinner.

If something needed to be done, Diyoza had a breakdown for it.

Didn't prevent accidents from happening. One thing she learned from catering was how to get a stain out of a white blouse. Also to have an extra white blouse. During a 50th anniversary party, a drunk son of the couple had bumped into (read: laid out) Nathan Miller, another employee of the catering company, who happened to be on liquids that night. Clarke unknowingly passed by to help one of the gentlemen from his seat and ended up with chilled rosé dripping down her sternum.

The previous night while serving dinner, a little boy knocked over ranch dressing onto Raven's slacks, thankfully avoiding the brace.

Mishaps happened but for some reason she enjoyed the chaos. As weird as it sounded, it reminded her she was alive. For once she wasn't just going through the motions. Catering, and the subsequent mishaps, provided a break from her regularly scheduled life.

Was it bad that she preferred the chaos?

  
  


After every gig with Dawn Catering, Octavia asked if Clarke wanted to join the crew going out to some bar. Usually she said the Ridge and Bellamy would pop out of nowhere to tell her no. Octavia would just smile at Clarke and wink. Each night Clarke would decline. She hadn't told her mom or Wells about her second job yet. Didn't want to raise any flags on where she had been. Her mom had worked late the past few days and she used being at Wells as an excuse for being out tonight. She knew she shouldn’t push it but for the first time she agreed, only if she rode in Murphy’s car instead of Octavia’s.

She found herself squeezed between Octavia and Murphy in a booth at some dive bar off the main road. Murphy slid from the seat to grab a round, stopping by the pool table to ask what Miller and Bellamy wanted. Turns out One Drink Octavia is similar to Just Off Shift Octavia ranting about the hunters and gatherers. Two Drink Octavia challenged people to arm wrestling matches but Three Drink Octavia ranted about the bar’s lack of eligible men. She had a list of requirements the men unknowingly did not hit.

“These men suck.” Octavia grumbled, tossing back her vodka cranberry. “Should have gone to the Ridge.”

“Date women.” Raven responded, propping her braced leg up onto the leather seat.

“See any good candidates? Any good prospects?” Octavia turned her attention to Clarke, “For me the pools pretty shallow. Sadly, Miller seems to be my most viable option and that’s not going to work.” Raven chuckled from her seat muttering about growing a dick. 

Clarke wasn’t much of a drinker. She nursed her hard apple cider feeling the buzz. “I’m sort-of dating someone.”

Octavia nearly bounced out of her seat, “Oh, I figured you were spoken for, didn’t I?” Raven simply nodded, dropping her head onto the back of the booth’s seat.

“Cillian and I are taking a break.”

Raven’s head shot back up at that, “Finn decided we were on a break when he met you. Never decided to tell me about the break though. Breaks are never good.” Octavia shook her head in silent agreement.

Clarke took a sip from her bottle, swirling the remaining liquid around. “Cillian and I just need some time to find ourselves and what we mean to each other. At the end of the summer we’ll discuss whether or not we want to continue our relationship. In an email, I overstepped on what he and I were-”

“Elaborate on overstepped.” Raven said, draping an arm over her eyes. The dim lights of the bar getting to her.

_ Your growing reliance on m _ e _ . Our expectations for this relationship appear to be different _ . The sentences repeated in her head over and over. “I wasn’t focused on my job. I focused more on trivial things. And in an email I told him I missed him and how I loved him-”

Octavia basically sat in Clarke’s lap at this point, Octavia’s warm hands seizing Clarke’s ice cold ones. “He dumped you for saying you loved him?” She wasn’t dumped, they were on a break but Clarke simply nodded in response. That wasn’t the full story behind her relationship status but ultimately if one was to summarize what led to their break, saying love was the tipping point. “I thought Atom ghosting me right before he was supposed to come home for Thanksgiving with me was bad. Why wait until the end of the summer? Dump his ass and then punch him in the dick like Raven should have.”

Raven raised a thumb up in agreement. “Make the shithead sterile.”

Miller, Murphy, and Bellamy walked over with the drinks joking about something. Clarke’s back stiffened in the seat, not wanting to continue the conversation but Octavia had already moved on from Clarke’s relationship. She played with the curled end of Clarke’s hair. A woman Calrke recognized stood near their table, finger pointed at her in question. “Clarke Griffin, right?”

“Yes.” She mumbled quietly.

The woman’s blonde hair was longer and messier but they had gone to high school together. Had been co-presidents of the art club. They almost dated in sophomore year. “I thought so. I was with my friends over there and was like that’s Clarke!” Apparently Niylah was not very good at handling her alcohol. “Did you ever get into that art school in California? Painting and graphic design right?”

All eyes turned towards Clarke. If only she could shrink down into the bottom of the bottle and hide. “I ended up not going for art.”

“Really? Her paintings were so lifelike. Drew on everything, to the point where she could have even forgotten to write her name on a test and the teachers still would know it was Clarke’s. I loved that mural you did for the winter musical. Insane. She could have been in a museum!” One of Niylah’s friends ran over and tugged her by the arm, apologizing for the disturbance.

The table was silent for a bit and Clarke wished once more to shrink, this time into nothing. Murphy broke the silence by saying, “She was sloshed.”

“Extremely.” Bellamy agreed, tipping his drink back. One of the guys near the pool table called over to Miller, saying it was his turn. He forced Bellamy out of the booth and told Murphy to get up. 

She watched Miller and Bellamy play against a pair. Miller getting in two stripes after the break. The game went on for a few minutes before Clarke quietly asked, “Why did you assume I was seeing someone?”

Octavia tilted her head to the side questionly before smiling and pointing at Bellamy, “Because I figured if you were single, you’d be asking about him. The curse of Aurora’s genes. She made attractive babies.” Aurora was her, and Bellamy’s, mother? The woman with the meatball recipe? “When I was in sixth grade, he was a senior and every girl in my grade seemed to have a crush on my brother. Him and his stupid motorcycle.” 

“I got to ride both.” Octavia turned to glare at Raven. “I said what I said.”

Apparently, One Drink Raven didn’t have a filter, Two Drink Raven was tired and still no filter but Three Drink Raven had no filter in regards to who she slept with.

“Hey Michelangelo!” Bellamy called, leaning against the pool table. Did he just? “We need another, you in?”

Octavia rolled her eyes and Raven slumped over, head on her friend’s shoulder. “You almost lobotomize your brother once and he never plays pool with you again.”

“I’m drunk. I should not have pre-gamed.” Raven grumbled. So More Than Three Drink Raven?

Clarke walked over to the pool table. Murphy and Miller standing on one side, Bellamy on the other. “Did you call me Michelangelo?”

Bellamy shrugged, rubbing the small cube of chalk on the cue’s tip. “Seemed appropriate for an esteemed artisan such as yourself.” With a smirk and a wink he lined up for the break. “You’re with me. The last names want to beat me.”

“You cheated last time.” Miller chucked a peanut from the basket on the table beside him at Bellamy. “You didn’t call the last ball before the eight ball.”

Murphy dropped himself into the seat, leaning back to prop himself up against the wall. “If I asked you to ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ what would you say?”

She grabbed a cue off the rack on the wall, resting against the surface with her hip. “First of all I don’t paint anymore. Probably can’t even make a circle now.” The group seemed surprised by her statement. “Second, if I had my palette knife I’d stick it in your eye.”

* * *

She was on liquids that night with Miller. He was circling the main room while Clarke was working through the country club’s old smoking and brandy rooms. Her mom had called her earlier that afternoon, while she was at Octavia and Bellamy’s acting as a doll to the former. Octavia did Clarke’s hair and makeup because  _ you’re my friend and I do all my friends up _ . She felt Octavia had other reasons for the impromptu makeover but she was tired and annoyed and being pampered made her feel great.

Bellamy simply chuckled when he walked out of the shower shirtless to see Octavia fighting Clarke’s tangles.

She didn’t stare, excuse you. Well not that long at least.

She felt different walking about the room with her hair done. Octavia sectioned half her hair into a braided crown. The other half she left down in bouncy, barrel curls. The braid was decorated with white flower hair pins. Her face felt like a walking ad for Ulta Beauty. How was she supposed to blend in when she looked like this?

She had two glasses left on her tray when Bellamy flagged her down from his post at the bar. “Guys over there wanted refills. You mind bringing them over to ‘em.” He raised his chin towards the group near the mantle. She grabbed at the whiskeys sitting on the bar, placing them on her tray. “Oh, your mom is in the main room. Came by while you were in the kitchen. Asked for something with cucumber vodka.” He spread his hands out, gesturing to the selection of liquors behind the bar. “Does this look like a place where you have cucumber vodka?”

Her mom was here? Her mom was at the party? Her mom drank flavored vodka?

“Settled on a gin martini.”

Clarke looked up at the group near the mantle. One of the men shifted in his stance, allowing Clarke of view of his face. Fuck that was Kane. She raced behind the bar fully ready to hide for the rest of the party when she heard someone call out her name. She knew that voice, it tortured her everyday at the library.

“Blonde?” she mouthed, not turning to face the voice. Bellamy looked beyond Clarke, over her shoulder and nodded.

“Coming this way.” he mumbled, busying himself with cleaning a tumbler.

A left hand came to rest on her shoulder, diamond ring sparkling under the bar’s overhead lights. “Your mom said you were meeting up with friends from Sanctum State.” Josephine leaned on her elbows against the bar in a shimmering evening gown. “Didn’t realize you worked as a caterer.” The other’s voice condescending. She made a point of glancing down at Clarke’s tray and then taking in Clarke’s attire. “White blouse and black slacks, timeless.” 

Josephine closed her eyes, stretching her neck back and forth. “The guy on hor’ derves in the other room is pretty cute. Can understand why you took another job.” Josephine disregarded Bellamy’s presence and took a tumbler of whiskey off the tray. “Mommy doesn’t know about your side hustle does she?”

Her mom was here. Kane was here.  _ Josephine was here _ .

Bellamy filled another tumbler with whiskey on the rocks and placed it on the tray. “Sorry to interrupt but Diyoza needs you in the kitchen.”

Taking the opening, Clarke sped over to the men by the mantle. She kept her head down, eyes averted to the floor. Kane, who either didn’t pay attention to her or picked up on the fact she was uncomfortable, never acknowledged her. Twenty feet to the stairs, and then another thirty to the kitchen. She could make it. Three steps down the stairs she heard her mother’s voice. “Clarke?”

Taking a deep breath, Clarke turned around to face her mother. “I thought that was you.” Her mother stepped up to the top of the stairs. “I like the braid. Did your college friends do it?” Her mother’s voice fell flat, her eyes apathetic.

“Mom, I-”

“I saw the Kepas. They’re out in the main room.” Of course Cillian’s parents would be here. Her freaking luck. “Imagine my surprise when they asked how you were doing after the break-up.”

“We’re on a break. We’re not broken up.” She felt like a broken record making the distinction.

Her mother didn’t appreciate the clarification. She twirled one of the barrels curls around her fingers, “So you’re on a break and you’re working as a caterer. Anything else? Any piercings? A tattoo? Maybe a motorcycle?” Even if she was being reprimanded, when her mother mentioned the motorcycle, her brain instantly pictured Bellamy standing beside a Harley.

“No.” She felt like she was four again and got caught trying to run away. She wanted to sleep in the backyard after the snow fell but her parents told her no. Four year old Clarke packed up her backpack with her favorite stuffed animals, grabbed her blanket, and decided she would be running away to her playset. While it hadn’t taken her parents long to find her, she didn’t listen or wear her coat. The time out was terrible. 

Dropping the curl, Abigail Griffin asked if her daughter would be coming home later. “I thought you were staying at your friend Octavia’s but apparently I was misled.”

“I am.” Clarke started. “Staying at Octavia’s. She just happens to work for the catering company. Her aunt is Diyoza.”

Her escape from life; her chaos in a mundane existence was no longer her secret. Her coworker knew, her mother knew, her mother’s best friend probably knew.

“You are still at the library, right? You made a commitment to the position-”

“I am.” Even if she hated it. Even if she wanted to quit everyday. Even if Cillian may not be committed to her anymore. "This is a side job.”

Her mother still looked indifferent, maybe even disappointed. During Spring Break, Abby encouraged Clarke to participate in an internship at Arkadia General Hospital under the guidance of Dr. Tsing. She hadn’t taken the library job at this point but had been speaking with Cillian about possibly filling in his shoes. Her reasoning for passing on the internship had been fearing she wasn't comfortable enough with what she had learned in her courses to handle treating living patients. And while Abby believed the internship to be an opportunity to build off her educational foundation, understood Clarke's apprehension.

Too bad Clarke was lying to her mother again. 

* * *

The van ran out of gas somewhere just east of nowhere and just north of looks to be no life on this highway. O chucked the keys at Bellamy the moment the job was over, jumping into the back of Raven's car immediately. They were meeting up with a few people. While she agreed to this group date during the job, Clarke needed a bit to clear her head. She offered to ride with Bellamy back to Diyoza's house, giving her some time to collect herself. After the evening she had she needed to go out.

It wasn't cheating. Cillian had officated a break. She and her friends could go out with a few guys. That was allowed. They are on a break. And she stopped all train of thought when she realized she sounded like Ross Geller.

Conveniently that was also when the van stopped because O forgot to put gas in the vehicle.

They opted to hiked down the darkened road, hoping to come across a gas station after calling everyone who could come get them. No one answered. O and Raven were on the group date; Miller was meeting up with his boyfriend for a Netflix marathon; Diyoza had left Bellamy in charge halfway through the job, after getting sick in the bathroom for a solid half hour; and Murphy, well he was Murphy. Did he own a phone?

Tempted to call her mother or Wells, she ultimately put her phone away. She wasn't ready to give up her secret just yet.

She didn't know how but somehow they had gotten into a handful of arguments over asinine things, such as if truly Dr. Manhattan was the superhero we deserve and then who was treated worse: the dog at the beginning or  _ John Wick _ or Peggy Carter’s children and grandchildren post  _ Endgame _ ? The arguments were silly and she found herself laughing - like doubled over, hand clenching stomach laughing - for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"I think we may be lost." Bellamy muttered, glancing down at this phone. The brightness of his phone illuminated his face in a blue glow. His jawline more pronounced when covered in shadows. Her eyes darted away quickly, glancing down at her own phone instead. She was not going down that path.

No new messages.

A few minutes passed before they got into another argument this time over how to pass the time. Bellamy, who is an actual nerd and that is amazing, kept recommending word games. His favorite game being where you have a four letter word and have to make a new word by changing only one letter. Clarke jokingly offered they could play Truth instead. She regretted it. Bellamy, after getting the rundown on the game, was adamant on playing. She hated Truth. The last time she played it was at Glass' house in ninth grade where she was coerced into admitting she was bisexual.

"What's your favorite color?" Clarke asked, leaning herself closer to him.

"Boo. Give me an actual question. None of that baby shit."

She chuckled, explaining she merely wished to ease him into the game but he shook his head vehemently. He wanted to experience the game full on. "Still going to be a bit of an easy one okay? Why are you so against the Ridge? It's just a bar."

In the dark, she could make out Bellamy turning to face her. “Really? Okay.” He then turned back to face the road. “Octavia had us all go out for her twenty-first. We usually go to this other place but they’ve been under the impression O was already legally able to drink so we went to the Ridge instead. She ended up in a bar fight armed with a toothpick for a sword and almost died from alcohol poisoning. Woke up in the hospital with a huge smile on her face and said she wanted to do it again.”

She heard Bellamy clap his hands once and then turn back to her, “Unlike you I’m going full in, what’s up with the boyfriend?”

Clarke looked down towards her feet. He had heard some of her conversation with O and Raven. She honestly didn’t know how to explain her relationship with Cillian. “We’re not together but we’re not, not together. We’re on a break currently.” she started. “Before the break, he was annoyed with how I wasn’t taking my job - which was his job prior to his fellowship - seriously. How I spent my emails complaining about my coworkers’ gross treatment of me like a petulant child.” Cillian thought she wasn’t committed to the job as he was. Her relationship with her coworkers shouldn’t influence her ability to perform her duties. He was under the impression that if she were truy doing her job she wouldn’t have time to make nice or even converse with her coworkers.

“Then my emails showed how much I missed him and I- I got too clingy. He was my first decent relationship since I-” she stopped for a moment, trying to figure out her wording. She wanted to say the accident, she truly did but she couldn’t get the words out. “I graduated from high school. I relied too much on him. He's top of the pre-med class. Really passionate about the field. We met in our Biology 101 class. He has this way of explaining everything and you just get it, you know? I had always been good at school but freshman year of college I felt out of my element. Cillian had this way of making everything seem easier." 

She turned to Bellamy for an acknowledgement but he was watching her instead. "I found it sweet. This attractive guy who didn't need to, went out of his way to help me."

Bellamy was silent. The only noise being their feet against the pavement. After a minute or two, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Still sounds like a dick regardless.”

Clarke’s head whipped around. Her hair ended up in Bellamy’s mouth and she heard him cough for a moment. Oops. She had given Bellamy the bare bones of their relationship leading up to her and Cillian’s break, and that was his response. It made sense, he didn’t understand everything. “A dick?”

“People complain about scenarios they don’t like. Especially when other people aren’t treating them right. That happens, it’s human. And missing your boyfriend who’s, in some place I don’t actually know-”

“Africa” she supplied.

“And missing your boyfriend who's in Africa because he’s in Africa is again normal. It’s again human. He’s a dick for not appreciating that.”

Bellamy’s hand squeezed her shoulder and she found herself leaning into his touch. Her cheek pressing gently against the back of his hand. Human. Her hand reached up to rest on top of his. She closed her eyes, allowing her feet to carry her down the road.

Bellamy's jaw tightened, going over something in his head. Clarke wanted to press him, they were playing Truth for fucks sake. He could say what he had on his mind, but ultimately she opted not to. “Did you tell him about working with us?" 

"No… for once this job was something that was just mine. My relationship went out the window this summer, my social life is tragic, and my work life sucked. I- I liked having something good. So I kept it to myself, at least for a little bit.

"Now getting away from me please. I’m going to piggyback off what you asked: what’s up with your girlfriend?”

Bellamy’s hand left her shoulder, dropping down by his side. “Last or current?”

He had a girlfriend? Octaia hadn’t mentioned anything about that the other night. The woman was probably model pretty, if his interest in Raven was any indication. Clarke’s heart sped up just imagining what the woman would look like. Of course he had a girlfriend. He was a good-looking guy, it made sense that he had a girlfriend. “Current.”

“Echo and I are on a break of sorts too.” His hands raked through the back of his curls, “We met in the Marines. When we came back she was a bit worse for wear. Something happened when she was deployed, something that changed her.” She could see him grabbing at something around his neck, loosening the buttons maybe? “That’s common though, war changes people. I was in therapy for a while afterwards.

“She stayed overseas longer than I had. She was an army brat, was in ROTC programs almost her whole life. Breezed through bootcamp. When she came back, she wanted a life outside of the military - basically needed to change her whole existence. She attends an outpatient clinic about a half hour from here. She’s not big on me seeing her while she’s in the facility. I told her it was fine, I wanted to help but she was adamantly against it. Her program ends the beginning of August and we're going from there."

He turned to her, his smile bright in the dark of the night. “Guess we’re both shit at love.”

She shook her head, her blonde curls falling around her. Her small smile hidden behind the wall of hair. “Your turn.”

He stopped walking and placed a hand on her bicep. “Why’d you really stop painting? The other night, your face screamed it was something deeper.”

She could feel her throat closing up. Why she stopped painting. Why she gave it up? She shoved her shaking hands into the pockets of her black slacks. Her body felt as cold as it had that day. “I painted everything when I was younger. I painted the walls in the den once. Dad thought it was hysterical but mom wanted to kill me.”

She could hear the tires screeching loudly into the night. “I stayed late at school. A group of us working on a mural for the winter musical. I had been too deep into the creative zone that I missed the last bus and missed everyone telling me they were heading out. I almost finished the mural- well it was done but I wanted to make a few changes.”

Her fingers laced into her curls, pulling at the ends. “I called my dad to come get me. It was pitch black out and had started snowing. Dad was careful- so fucking careful but that didn’t matter.” She could see the car skidding off the road. She could see the red and blue ambulance lights flashing from her right.

“The road was a sheet of ice and we skidded off into a tree. I was in the hospital for a while, but dad he never came home. The Medical Examiner said he died on impact. Didn’t feel a thing.”

They had to cut her out of the seat. She remembered being lifted onto the stretcher, voice barely above a whisper asking, no pleading for them to save her dad. The first responder never said anything about her dad as they raced Clarke to the ambulance. Just that she'd be okay. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t but she could feel the tears beginning to well. That was the night her life changed. If she had only taken the late bus!

“You have survivor’s guilt...” Bellamy muttered, his voice trailing off. “You lived and he didn’t.”

The tears began to flow and her eyes shot up to meet his, “No, I don’t.” She hated that term. Kane’s mother brought it up once during dinner. She didn’t agree,  _ she was at fault _ . She was the reason her mother shut down instantly the moment Jake Griffin was brought up. “I’m to blame. He came to get  _ me _ . It’s not survivor’s guilt. He was there because of me.” She was guilty of her father’s death. She was the reason he died.

Bellamy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into him. She expected the apologizes, the hollow I’m sorrys everyone offered when they heard her father died. Especially when they heard she was there. Bellamy simply pulled her tighter, resting his chin atop her head. “I felt the same way when I came back and others from my squad didn’t. You’ve been carrying this for too long, you need time to mourn.”

For the first time since she watched her father's casket be lowered into the ground she cried in front of someone. Her head found the junction between his neck and his shoulders and she cried. Her father had been an amazing, vibrant person. That morning he woke up early to make her pancakes before she had to leave for school - as he did every Wednesday - but she was too excited rambling about the mural and all ideas she had for it. She probably ate at most one pancake. She raced out the door, to make it to the bus, her peacoat haphazardly buttoned. He would be lifeless and trapped inside a pulverized metal shell within twelve hours.

Bellamy’s front pocket began to vibrate. He made no move to answer the call, instead continued to rub his thumb against the middle of her back. She slowly extricated herself from him but remained close. He gave her a sad smile before answering his phone, “Octavia fucking finally. You didn’t fill the tank.”

* * *

Almost all of Clarke’s important memories had Wells Jaha in them. He was her first friend, her best friend, and at one point in her life her only friend. Good times, bad times, didn’t matter the two were always there for each other. Yet the past two years her relationship with her best friend had been strained. Wells started dating Glass Sorenson during their freshman year of college. The pair both attending Phoenix State approximately three hours away. While Clarke, funnily, tried to find herself again at Sanctum State an hour away where no one knew her. Apparently she failed at that, if Cillian’s emails were any indication. She and Glass bumped heads throughout their formative years. Clarke, aptly nicknamed the Curve Breaker, and Glass a firm believer and in constant need of the curve. The latter making several snide comments about Clarke’s affinitive for knowledge. Clarke would have been content to never say a word to Glass, and for the most part she didn’t - except when it came to their mutual best friend, Wells. They’d put on a face, act civil around one another but the moment Wells left the vicinity they were as good as strangers.

Didn’t help that Clarke believed Wells was Glass’ rebounded after being dumped by her high school sweetheart Luke. But she held her tongue. Something she found herself doing quite often recently.

"You okay?” Wells asked. Glass and her mother went on a weekend trip to an all-inclusive spa resort - or something like that, she didn’t actually know nor care - leaving Wells free from her blonde grasp for the first time in what felt like forever. He had stopped by the day after her mother found out about her catering job, asking if she wanted to hang out with him. Allowing her an escape from her mother’s cold stare and the pointed questions.

Honestly, she probably would have agreed to hanging out with Glass over her mother.

She walked up to one of the stalls at the flea market selling vintage floral dresses. Was she okay? The question always seemed simplistic. A simple question, a simple answer. But that wasn’t true. Was anyone good? Shrugging halfheartedly, Clarke perused one of the stalls racks. She had been better. She had been worse too. “Eh.” she settled on. Simple.

Wells experienced Clarke post-accident. Experienced her guilt, her sorrow, her anger. Experienced the rehabilitation. Experienced Clarke receding into herself. He sat beside her at the wake, helping her weather the condolences. He stood beside her at the funeral, holding her hand in support. He knew good was relative.

Holding up one of the dresses to her, Wells continued. “I’m sorry Cillian broke up-” she didn’t have the heart to correct him. Useless at this point. “-with you via email rather than face to face.” The idea of looking into his eyes on Skype didn’t alleviate her pain. Maybe she’d listen to Raven and give up on men officially.

She knew her friend wanted her to face him, to look him in the eyes. Recapturing the ability to be so open, so vulnerable with each other that they used to have. But she was different- they were different. Glancing in the opposite direction, she could make out a row of food trucks parked near the middle of the flea market. One of the trucks stood out to her, specifically the name: Astraeus. She placed the dress back onto the rack and she pointed out the truck to Wells.

“That’s not a name you’d expect for a food truck.” He tilted his head to the side in thought, “I know it but I can’t recall why.”

They walked towards the makeshift food court but as they got closer Clarke came to a dead stop. Bellamy leaned out the window of the truck, forearms propped up on the sill taking a customer’s order. His messy, black curls pulled back with a headband. Wells said something back she couldn’t hear anything, her heart pounding in her ears. What was he doing in a food truck. The door of the truck opened, Murphy coming out with a large platter with several meals atop it. He weaved his way through the picnic tables easily, flowing passed bodies and strollers, delivering the customers their meals. Bellamy finished taking the order and turned away.

Bellamy and Murphy had a food truck?

Wells looked back and forth between the truck and Clarke. “Do we know Mr. Astraeus?”

Clarke barely nodded. He catered  _ and  _ had a food truck. How hadn’t she known he had a food truck? Without a word, Wells resumed walking towards the truck and Clarke wished one of the other vehicles would shift into gear and flatten her. She couldn't go over there, not after last night. She was beyond embarrassed for crying like that, let alone in front of anyone. Bellamy, to his credit, seemed unperturbed by her tears but then again he had Octavia as a sister and was more than likely accustomed to dramatic outbursts. Last night, she sat in the backseat of Raven's car, her body as far away from Bellamy as she could that she practically sat inside the back door. Feigning being exhausted after the events of the day, Clarke asked to be dropped off at home instead of sleeping at the Blake's as planned.

Murphy spotted her before Bellamy did. He had a basket of fries in hand, placing it on the table in front of a small child. “Want a third job, which is basically your second job?”

He walked them over to the truck and Bellamy’s head popped back out the window. “I thought I saw you walking over.”

“I’m actually a mirage.” She shot back.

“Obviously you’re a mirage, why else would you be in this sweltering desert?” She hated the fact she laughed at that. She also hated the look on Wells’ face. Murphy threw open the door, yelling at her to pick something already because  _ god Clarke, children order faster than you _ . Bellamy gave a small smile, shaking his head. “He’s great at customer service, can’t you tell?”

She chose something at random and Bellamy’s head dropped down onto the windowsill. Murphy could be heard yelling excitedly from somewhere inside the truck. “That’s my creation! I am now leading!” he cheered.

She chatted casually with Bellamy, and in a way Murphy. Wells adding a thought here or there. Each time he spoke, he looked pointedly at Clarke. Would people be offended if she smacked that smug grin off his face? Probably not?

They sat at a table eating and holy shit Murphy could cook. Very little was said between Wells and Clarke even though it was glaringly obvious Wells had thoughts he wished to voice aloud. Both were too invested in their meals. Too invested that they hadn’t noticed Bellamy plopping down into the seat beside Clarke. “Lunch rush is slowing down.” he explained, “You two shopping to your heart's content?”

Whatever Wells would have said was drowned out by Clarke asking, “What’s the name about?”

“Truth?” He asked in jest. Truth. “My mom loved to cook. Never made a living out of it, and half the time we couldn’t afford nice ingredients but she came up with a library full of recipes. Half the catering menu is hers. Taught O and I to cook. Taught Diyoza when she got married how to cook. Gotta please your husband, mom would say, even though she'd never been married but whatever. And when my aunt got divorced within the year, mom said it was because Diyoza was shit at cooking.”

Bellamy pointed towards Murphy, “When he began hanging around our house more than his own, mom taught him too. It gave him an escape from life, I guess kind of how catering does for you. The moment school, or detention, let out he'd be in our kitchen. Murphy thought he was the Top Chef at one point, hosting competitions over who could make the best scrambled eggs.”

Stealing one of the fries off of Clarke’s plate, Bellamy looked up towards the name on the truck. “After twenty years of service, Diyoza, retired from the Navy and my mom had gotten really sick. For the last few months she was bed-ridden. To help out, Diyoza learned how to cook just incase O or I weren’t available. And when she passed, Diyoza opened Dawn in her memory since Aurora, my mom's name, was the Roman goddess of dawn. While there is no Roman version, Astraeus is the Greek god of dusk.” Dawn and dusk. Actual Nerd Bellamy Blake named his food truck in a nerdy means to honor his mother.

Murphy stuck his head out the window of the truck, recalling Bellamy to their small kitchen. Saying goodbye to them, Bellamy stood up from his seat but before he left he informed Clarke that that had counted as her turn. She almost didn't pick up on what he meant but it caused her to still. He wanted to keep playing. Even after her breakdown the night before. He wanted to keep getting to know her.

When they were in the car driving back to the Griffin residence, Wells looked over at her the smug grin back. “So I’m assuming the break is permanent. Mr. Astraeus was cute.” 

* * *

In the following weeks, Clarke learned more about Bellamy Blake and he in turn learned more about her. She probably knew more about him than she did anyone else. She learned how he enlisted in the Marines at eighteen. He got involved with a bad group of kids back in high school and nearly got arrested for a B&E. Additionally, when Bellamy was seven a parent came in to his class and spoke about how they were in the Marines. He went home and told Diyoza while she may be a Seal, she wasn’t one of the few, or the proud. They had a running joke since then that Bellamy would say the Marines were better.

She learned he feared he’d fail his mother, that he’d fail O and Diyoza and his future cousin. That his worst moment was when he punched a mirror at three in the morning, about six month into being stateside again because he couldn’t look at himself. He began seeing a therapist less than a week later at the VA hospital because Diyoza forced him into her car.

That the grossest thing to ever happen to him was that after saving up for a month to take this girl, Roma, he had a crush on to an amusement park, she puked on him after one ride and demanded they go home. He never called her again. (Not because she threw up, that happens, but because she blamed it on him.)

That Bellamy Blake loved with his whole heart. That one she learned through her own observations.

“Okay, most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you.” Clarke said, leaning her head against his arm. Octavia decided that they all deserved a nice Friday night to themselves since the wedding they were supposed to cater was called off. They all hiked down to a small, hidden cove less than a mile from Old Factory Lane where Bellamy, O, Raven, and Murphy lived for a bonfire.

The others were playing about in the water, moonlight reflecting onto the black surface of the water. Clarke didn’t have a swimsuit and Bellamy, who did have on a pair of swim trunks, offered to accompany her on dry land. They sat in the glow of the fire, watching the others merriment.

He thought about it for a moment before saying, “When mom was pregnant with Octavia, I thought she was dying. She was always throwing up, was so unbelievably pale, and she’d come home and practically pass out on the living room floor.” His head came to rest on top of hers, “For one week I saved my lunch money to be able to afford buying her this gigantic bag of apples - though now I realize it was just a normal bag but I was six so the proportions were off.”

“Why apples?”

“Because they keep the doctor away.” He said bluntly. “My teacher had called my mom that afternoon saying I hadn’t been eating and asked if there were any issues at home. Imagine her surprise when I came home lugging this bag of apples because I thought she was dying. I will never live it down, that is O’s favorite story. When mom was sick, Octavia would come home every now and then with a bag of apples just to remind me. Mom thought it was hysterical.”

Clarke knocked her head against his arm, jostling him over. “That’s not embarrassing. That’s cute! I wanted something juicy.”

“Apples are pretty juicy.”

“I hate you so much.” And again, she hated the fact she laughed.

Bellamy stared her down for a beat. Dropping down into the sand, he covered his face with his hands. “My mom come home early the day I lost my virginity.” Now this sounded promising.

Clarke rolled over and propped herself up with her elbows. “Had no clue she was there. She wasn’t supposed to be home until nine that night and O was staying at her friend’s house so my girlfriend at the time Lilly and I thought we’d have the house to ourselves for a while. Lilly was mortified when she went downstairs to get water, wearing only my shirt, and my mom was sitting at the dining room table with a coffee in hand. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, ‘this old lady’s been there before. Two kids and all.’”

Bellamy groaned, tilting his head back. “Then, then after I drove Lilly home, mom was sitting at the desk in my room. Lilly had bought a few silly candles from the 99 cent store. They were half melted and there were some flower petals on the floor cause I bought Lilly flowers during our walk home from school since she thought they were pretty. It definitely looked like any cliche movie scene where the leads lose their virginity. My mom leans back in my chair and says ‘Next time, play some music or something. It sounded like she was being murdered.’

“Lilly never came to our house again.”

She tried really hard not to laugh, she did but oh my god. She made sure the day she lost her virginity her mom and dad would be out of the house. They were out at some fundraiser about an hour away and opted to stay at a hotel that night instead of making the drive back. “It’s not funny, I was scarred!” Bellamy all but whined. “The next morning, my mom gave me things to read on how to make it enjoyable for both parties and dropped a box of condoms on my bed.”

“Your mom was a sex positive person. That’s rad. Mine probably still thinks I’m a virgin.”

“Well she had a kid before she graduated high school and then another one a few years later, when she should have been in college.” Aurora had Bellamy in high school? “Mom was cool with us having sex. Said sexual exploration was normal in adolescents and she shouldn’t discourage it.”

Bellamy rolled over onto his side. His dark curls fell in front of his eyes and she had the urge to reach out and brush them aside. “Okay so you got embarrassing. Mine is if you could say anything to your mother what would it be?”

She had been waiting for Bellamy to bring up the night at the country club, been bracing herself but she still hadn’t been ready for the question. That night was a mess and he got to witness Josephine’s behavior first hand. He got a front row seat to her secret life blowing up in her face. Why couldn’t she be honest with her mother? Had there always been this gorge between them? Never able to bridge the gap. Had dad been the bridge connecting them and when he died that bridge came falling down?

“I- I don’t know.” she stumbled over her words. “There’s so much to say at this point. So much that should have been said, on either end. But I guess the main thing I would want to say is that we both deserve to be happy. We shouldn’t function long enough to get us through the day. When dad died, in a way, so did mom and I. We both rescinded into ourselves, never reaching out to the other. Never making sure the other stayed afloat. We both withdrew to prevent ourselves from being hurt further and inadvertently, we ended up doing the one thing we aimed not to do. We hurt ourselves more. We didn’t allow ourselves to grieve.” Her words were rushed, slurring together. She had no idea if Bellamy could understand anything she was saying but she needed to say it. She needed to get it off her chest - even if these words were never to be heard by the rightful set of ears.

“Dad’s stuff was in boxes before he was even in the ground. All traces of him wiped and if not for the memories I had, dad may have not even existed. I want her to know it's okay to miss dad. It’s okay to be upset. Because I want to hear that too. That it’s okay for me to miss him. That’s it’s okay to be upset. Just trying to bring up Jake Griffin in her presence has her masquerading as a block of ice.”

Three and a half years. It’s been three and a half years and neither of them got to grieve. “I brought up seeing the school psychologist once after the accident. Mom was furious at the idea so I never went. Maybe I should have. Maybe then I’d be more open with her about my issues.”

The two of them sat together in silence. Bellamy’s hand reaching out to rest on hers, silently reminding her he was there. That she was fine. Octavia called out to them, telling them to join them in the water. When Clarke reiterated she didn’t have a swimsuit Octavia simply told her to embrace her inner Lady Godiva. Skinny dipping was not something she would do. “Just wear your underwear, it’s basically the same thing.” Raven offered, dunking her hair back into the water.

Bellamy wordlessly gave Clarke an out but she stood, gripping the hem of her shirt. Those in the water already chanting for her to do it. Chucking her shirt to the side and slipping off her shorts, Clarke raced towards the water, diving under the surface when she was near waist deep. “Lady Godiva on strike.” Bellamy said, slowly making his way through the tide.

Lady Godiva on strike. She liked that.

With the moonlight cascading him in this ethereal glow, Clarke’s fingers ached for a paintbrush. To capture the way his dark curls rested against his forehead. Or the way the moonlight illuminated his jawline. But she kept herself from his magnetism. Octavia climbed on top of Miller’s shoulders and Raven not as easily copied her and climbed onto Bellamy’s, forcing him into a game of chicken. Octavia gripped Raven’s hands but before Murphy got start the counting, she turned to face in the dark. “If you guys are done with your little game, want to take on the winner?”

Their bout began; Raven keeping her own against Octavia, the pair ebbing back and forth like the low waves. Miller and Bellamy both stood firm, casually talking about a video game they both desperately wanted to play. Taking Raven, and in turn almost everyone else, Octavia leaned over and kissed her. In Raven’s surprise, Octavia easily overpowered the other.

Miller and Murphy asked instantly when that happened as Raven, and Bellamy who took a fall to prevent Raven’s leg from ending up at an awkward angle, resurfaced. “After that dull date with those lackluster men, the one Clarke was supposed to come on but ditched for Bell.” she said proudly pounding her fists into the air in victory. “The date was uncomfortable but Raven and I kind of ignored them and had our own date. Then Clarke decided to be a spoilsport and go home instead of sleeping over. Raven and I kind of went from there.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his went hair, curls slicking back for a moment before bouncing forward. “Remember what my mom told me?” he asked, mainly focused on Clarke than the group, “Yea, I told the same thing to O.”

Octavia annihilated Clarke in the next round. It was no contest. Murphy spent a solid half hour complaining how he got stuck with her; at least Raven held her ground for a bit. Octavia on the other hand, wrapped her arm around Clarke’s shoulders from behind and Raven swam over to the pair leisurely.

“I would offer you what my brother’s relationship status is, but I’m positive with the game you two are playing, you already know.”

Raven’s hand rested on top of Octavia’s arm, “I still say just climb him like a tree and get over with it.”

“Raven!”

“What? I did that with the other Blake and it worked out for me. I would like to declare, I am amazing and made eskimo siblings out of actual siblings.”

Was Octavia telling Clarke to go for Bellamy? To make a move on her older brother? Wasn’t that something friends didn’t- well then again Raven and Bellamy had something at least physical at one point. But she had Cillian, well somewhat. Their relationship simply on pause. Plus, the Fourth of July was the next week and there was a possibility Cillian would be returning for a few days to see his grandmother. And in a month he’d be back for good and they’d hit the play button. She didn’t have time for complications.

All six of them hiked up the trail from the cove back to Old Factory Lane well past one in the morning. Miller piggybacking Raven and Murphy piggybacking Octavia as they sped towards the Blake household. Bellamy shook his head, carrying the cooler, hanging back to walk with her. Clarke carried her dry clothes in her hands, draped in an oversized sweatshirt of Octavia's. 

Leaning to her left, she bumped her shoulder into his. He, in turn, copied her actions. It felt juvenile, but she didn’t care. She leaned to bump into him but he stopped short, causing her to miss her intended target. “Ha!”

The streetlight from the road came into view, illuminating Old Factory Lane in a pale, yellow glow. The low light hitting Bellamy's profile, highlighting the definition. For the second time that night, she wished to immortalize the moment in a painting. "Bellamy." She stopped walking to look up at him. He stopped too, placing the cooler down on the ground. "If you could do anything, what would it be?"

He looked perplexed for a moment. Taking a small step forward and then a second, Bellamy shortened the gap between them. They were close enough for her to count every freckle on his face, to notice the small scar on his top lip. Close enough that she could just reach out and grab him. He thought over her question, eyes alight and expressive. She anticipated a plethora of possible answers, but she never considered the one he did say: "Pass."

He was passing on the question? She voiced her question aloud and received a shrug in response. That was the question he passed on? "You know that means you have one more question to ask and then I win right?"

He picked up the cooler silently, continuing their way back to the Blake household. "I'm going to need some time to come up with a winning worthy question befitting the Truth Princess."

She hated the fact his smile made her heart beat erratically.

* * *

Today was the day. Was it bad she dreaded it? Cillian would be home for the day; he'd come to the library, they'd probably go for lunch, and they'd talk. He possibly would accompany her to her mother's “barbeque” - more like soiree - later. Then he and his parents would head up the coast to see his grandmother. She'd get him for a few hours at most, wasn't enough time to go over everything that has happened these past couple weeks. 

She sat in her chair foot bouncing anxiously. She had reshelved reference books and rearranged the summer reading display to show which titles were still available. She cataloged the old magazines back in their archive section. And now she waited, watching the second had tick painstakingly slow. He's be here in less than an hour.

To her right, Josephine and Jade's conversation lulled. Or he came early. Averting her gaze from the clock, she braced herself to see her boyfriend/not boyfriend walking through the small hallway from the entrance. Instead, she saw a mess of familiar inky black curls.

"Hey Clarke, isn't that your friend from you second job?" Josephine's voice sounded higher, airier. "Friends with that cute one?" Murphy, Clarke thought, she meant Murphy. Jade's eyes were fixed on Bellamy who immediately came over to Clarke.

He propped his elbows onto the half wall at the end of the desk. "Okay so I-"

"She's a trainee, doesn't know much. You could ask Jade or I instead." Josephine continued the airy tone, leaning forward in her seat. "She and I would be glad to help."

This went on a few times. Bellamy explaining he knew Clarke could help while Josephine and Jade insisted she was useless when it came to questions.

"Okay." Bellamy said, walking over to their part of the desk, "I was on my way to get more mayonnaise when I get a call that Raven fell down the stairs and O is taking her to the hospital to have her leg checked out; would either of you be willing to work an event out at Eden Tree Park? It’s visitor's weekend so Murphy’s upstate seeing his fiancee, leaving Miller, a heavily pregnant Diyoza, and I to man it." To their credit, the two looked to be contemplating the pros and cons of working a catering job as opposed to the information desk at the library. "That's what I thought."

"What time is the event?" Clarke asked.

"One. I know it's short notice and you're not on schedule today cause of, you know."

"Excuse me, but you're still on shift until three today. You can't leave." Josephine snidely pointed out. She pushed her chair back, Jade copying her movement, effectively blocking Clarke from desk's exit.

Clarke did what any normal person would do. She tossed her bag to Bellamy, firmly planted her hands on the desk and swung herself over. Throwing her gaping coworkers a taunting smirk, Clarke took her bag back.

"Ten out of ten on the dismount."

"And to think, I never took a single gymnastics lesson."

The fact she walked out on her - and Cillian's job - didn't hit her until an hour later as Miller and Bellamy set up the commercial grill. Bellamy had told the story for a third time, voicing how he wished he quit a job with as much flair as she had. Oh god, she quit her job. She stood in front of the vegetarian and vegan alternatives to hot dogs and hamburgers silently freaking out. She quit her job. Cillian would be arriving at the library any minute now to speak with her. She quit her job. He's probably called her already to ask but she hadn't bothered to turn her phone back on, going from one job to the other. She quit her job. 

Did she mention she quit her job?

Vera Kane hobbled over to Clarke's options, asking for a roasted stuffed pepper. "You are a vision." She was covered in sweat from standing outside in direct sunlight for an hour; cheeks turning red. "How have you been?"

Clarke first instinct was to lie and say she was 'fine', as she normally did. But Vera Kane had been a therapist for a long time, she could read someone instantaneously. She probably knew exactly how Clarke was. Instead of answering Clarke shrugged. She was a mess, that's as much as she knew. A big 'ol mess. The woman reached her frail hand out to rest atop Clarke's, "If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."

"I'm not sure my health plan covers therapy sessions." She said as a means to end the conversation but Vera gave her a soft, sad smile.

"Dear, how bout one on me. Sometimes talking it out helps and I'm here to listen." Clarke's eyes darted over to the grill, where Bellamy stood flipping a few burgers and plating others onto the tray. Sometimes talking it out was good. "You never know." Vera finished, bidding her goodbye.

Aside from Vera's odd offer at a free therapy session, the barbeque went smoother than any job Clarke had even taken with Dawn. Smoother than smooth. They actually brought more burgers and buns than necessary. The potato salad was a hit. And surprisingly, not once did Clarke see Marcus Kane, Vera's son, and have to awkwardly explain to him why he found her outside the library. Because she quit her job. Then as they broke down the dessert buffet, Diyoza's water broke. The woman hadn't even noticed, just continued packing up leftover cookies and cakes. The host of the event did notice. She all but forced Diyoza into the catering van. Sent them all home, with a hefty tip - a baby gift Miller joked when they were piled into the van.

During the ride to the hospital, Diyoza easily chatted with her nephew and Miller. Every few minutes, she'd wince and place her hand to the bottom of her belly but aside from that you'd never guess the woman was in labor. Clarke on the other hand wanted to throw up. And when she stepped through the doors of the hospital, it took everything in her not to collapse on the spot. The last time she had walked through those doors she lost her father. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. She had no idea how long she stood there, tears welling in her eyes but one second she's focusing on nothing but white and the next her face is in Bellamy's shirt as he hugged her.

"It's okay Clarke, it's okay." He soothed, rubbing one of his large hands against her back. "Breathe with me. In and out. In and out."

She couldn't do this, she couldn't be here. She needed to go but her feet wouldn't move. Sensing her distress, Bellamy gently lifted her feet from the floor. The toes of her sneakers danced across the linoleum as he brought her outside to sit on one of the benches. "In and out. In and out."

The tears began to stream down her cheeks. She turned into him and cried. Bellamy said nothing, just continued to rub her back soothingly.

When she found her breath once more, she slowly pulled away from him. That was twice now that she cried in front of him, twice. She hadn't cried in front of her mother or Wells in years and she cried twice now in front of Bellamy Blake. Oh god, what did he think of her? "Putting your head between you knees is supposed to help, but that never worked for me."

She tossed her head back with a groan. Why did he have to be there both times she was at her most vulnerable? Why?

"I have a question for you. It's not relating to Truth so you don't have to answer if you don't want to." He said, eyes fixated on the crosswalk linking the hospital and the parking lot. "Why torture yourself with pre-med when you-" act like this? She finished for him. When she acted like this? "-could do anything else? If hospitals aren't a good place for you mentally, why do you want to work in one?"

She opted out of answering. Bellamy did give her the out. Saying because my mom expects it of me sounded hollow. Saying she didn't know why she tortured herself made her seem all the more messed up in the head. Who got up everyday to do something, to study something, that made them want to throw up? That had them shaking at the thought of the future?

She knew she should leave, should head home and get ready for her mom's party. Prepare herself for the possibility of seeing Cillian but instead she rested her head against Bellamy's arm.

"Hey Bell, Diyoza wants to call fuckface to let him know Hope's forcing her way out. I vowed never to speak to him ever again so can you?" Octavia asked, walking out the sliding doors to the emergency ward. The Blakes swapped positions: Bellamy walking towards the doors and Octavia sitting beside her on the bench. "He's a creep and I cannot believe he's Hope's dad." Octavia rested her head atop of Clarke's, "But he is also Hope's dad and unlike our dads, he's somewhat interested in being a parent. She's almost ten inches along because we Blakes are impatient and Hope wants out!" O called out to her brother as he passed into the lobby.

It’s an odd, conflicting feeling to be present for a baby’s birth in the same hospital where she had been told her father passed. All sixteen inches and six pounds, three ounces of Hope -no middle name because she’s “a legend already and doesn’t need one”- Diyoza come into the world with a hearty set of lungs. She balled up her miniature fists the moment the nurse placed her onto Diyoza’s chest, snuggling into the warmth of her mother. The baby’s father was caught in traffic, according to Bellamy who got to cut the umbilical cord, and was the first of those present to hold Hope. To hold his cousin. The newborn was carefully handed from Bellamy to O to Miller and to Raven, whose leg was fine by the way. When it came time for Clarke to hold Hope if she wanted, Clarke’s eyes darted up to meet Bellamy’s, telling her she didn’t have to hold Hope if she didn’t want to. Inhaling deeply, Clarke allowed for the tiny newborn to be placed in her arms.

Such a small thing. Hope weighed next to nothing. Clarke gently brushed her fingertips through Hope’s hairline feeling the little tufts of brown fuzz. The newborn’s eyes were closed and her fists still clenched. “She looks ready for a fight.” Clarke’s voice wavered, her lips trembling. She hadn’t realized she started crying until Miller silently held out a napkin for her. 

“Like mother, like daughter.” Diyoza chuckled.

They stayed a bit longer before Miller took the keys for the van from Bellamy to drive Clarke home. Begrudgingly, she turned her phone on once strapped into the passenger seat. The sun had long since set, cascading the sky into darkness. The blackness disrupted every now and then by bursts of color as fireworks danced across the sky. Her phone’s startup screen illuminating the car in blue light. Four missed calls from her mother. Two missed calls from Cillian. A few from Wells, Kane, the library, hell even one from Glass. Plus the array of text messages. Oops. Opening up her texting app, she glanced at one of the previews sent by her mother.

_ I will see you at ho _ ...

Oh hell. Miller asked if she was alright. No, she should have said. She wasn’t alright, she should have said. Instead she nodded subtly, “Just tired.”

Walking into their home, Clarke noticed people milling about in the backyard drinks in hand watching one of the neighbors down the block’s fireworks display. Several partygoers came up to her, complimenting her on a splendid party - though none seemed to realize she had been absent from the party. Nor did they notice she resembled a penguin in lieu of wearing a cocktail dress. Her mother stood amidst a circle of her guests near the chocolate fondue fountain. A chocolate covered strawberry in hand. She looked away from Thelonious Jaha towards where Clarke stood.

Have you ever watched the disappointment spread on your parent’s face? Once alight with happpiness at whatever joke Jaha said, Abigail Griffin now looked capable of murder simply with her gaze. She placed the strawberry down onto a plate and pointed her perfectly manicured finger towards Clarke’s room. Her mother’s jaw tightened in annoyance when Clarke stayed put. With the fakest smile Clarke had ever seen, Abby excused herself from Jaha to walk over to her daughter. Even though her mother’s heels were two or three inches high, it felt as if she towered over Clarke in this moment. “Upstairs. We will talk about this later.”

“Mom, Diyoza went into-”

“Later.”

* * *

She was legally an adult and legally able to buy her own alcohol. Yet here she was grounded. After everyone went home for the night, her mother brushed passed her curtly stating they would talk in the morning.

When morning came Clarke felt as if she were two feet tall. Her mother ripped into her. Detailing how this summer she barely recognized the person Clarke had become. How she had become lackadaisical with her commitments, instead choosing to spend her nights out into the wee hours with apparently a poor social group. Abigail declared that the root of Clarke’s evils this summer stemmed from Dawn Catering Company. That those employed by this company were bad influences on her daughter. That Cillian informed Abigail, after being informed by the always honest Josephine, that Clarke ditched her commitment to the library when one of her  _ other coworkers _ appeared at the library and enticed her away from her job. Which wasn’t entirely true, she left out of her own volition but Abby wouldn’t let Clarke get a word in.

And when Abby went off about Clarke’s disregard for her commitment to appearing at her mother’s party and didn’t have the decency to call, that was the end.  _ There is always a phone to use Clarke so do not attempt any explanations as to why you didn’t. You should have called instead of making me worry _ . While she knew her mother loved her and she felt awful for worrying her mother, something nagged at Clarke. Did her mother worry more for Clarke’s wellbeing or did Clarke foregoing the party and quitting a job she loathed interfere with the perfect image her mother sculpted for them? That Clarke threw a wrench into Abby’s storyline of a mother and daughter successfully bouncing back from such a tragedy?

Clarke wanted to say something, to say anything but ultimately nothing came out. Then her mother sentenced her ruling: Clarke would spend the rest of the summer working with Abby at the hospital and would steer clear of the deviants at Dawn Catering Company. Well her mother hadn’t used deviants but with the tone she used when saying employees, she may as well have.

Her sentence should be deemed cruel and unusual but Clarke didn’t fight. For a week, she sat silently in the passenger seat as her mother drove them to the hospital. Abby’s assistant had returned to college earlier that month to start their internship, leaving Clarke the coveted position. She mainly worked in her mother’s office doing clerk work: organizing files, answering calls, setting appointments. She never had to step foot in a ward but each time she walked through the employee doors she felt like she was suffocating. Thursday afternoon she sat at her desk toying with the notion of calling Vera Kane after a particularly bad panic attack. The only contact she had with her new friends were through covert texts or hushed calls late at night when her mother was either working or passed out.

On a Monday night, under the guise of going to a pilates class, Clarke found herself in the Blake’s driveway behind Bellamy’s motorcycle. Bellamy found her with her fingers clenched around the steering wheel and the engine still on. “You good there?”

“No.”

Nodding his head, Bellamy climbed into the passenger seat of the car, “Want to talk about it? I know you’ve been missing your daily dose of trying not to get dressing, sauce, or food onto a pristine white shirt.” He reached over, turning the keys and shutting off the engine.

She did. “Sorry I’ve been MIA, been busy at work.” she knew he wanted to ask about that, could see it clear on his face but she continued on. “Working at the hospital isn’t that bad anymore. I think I just needed to get over that hump. To walk through those doors at least once.” Why was she lying to him? “I’m good now but swamped.”

He sounded almost mechanically, “I know what you mean, I’m meeting Murphy at the truck in a little bit.” Forcing himself to say one thing but wanting to say something else.

As they sat there quietly, something felt off. It almost felt awkward. The incident at the hospital must have been a tipping point in their relationship. The night on the deserted highway was a fluke and he probably just assumed stress or something set her off but the night at the hospital, that’s when she made things uncomfortable between them. He glanced down at the time on his phone and she wanted to crawl into a ball. Yup, she ruined whatever it was between them.

“I’m going to get back with Cillian.” she declared. “We’ve been emailing a little bit here and there. Seems like we’re leading back towards what we were.” They sent each other short emails, nothing too in-depth relationship wise. Mainly it focused on Cillian’s grandmother’s health, which was rapidly worsening, and Clarke becoming acquainted with the hospital. Funny, now that she thinks about it, unlike with the library job, she never once mentioned how unhappy she was at the hospital.

“Is that what you want?” Bellamy asked, his voice trailing off.

Inadvertently, Bellamy asked his final Truth. Was getting back together with Cillian what she wanted? She turned quickly in her seat, the seatbelt rubbing against her skin. Looking at him, she almost said no. She didn’t want Cillian, not anymore. What she wanted was mere inches from her but she had ruined whatever was between them. “Yeah, I think- no, I know. Getting back with Cillian is what I want.” Her hands found the steering wheel once more. “Aren’t you going to be getting back together with Echo?”

Bellamy didn’t answer her, just stared at her puzzlingly. His eyes unreadable.

“Maybe you, Echo, Cillian, and I could hang out. I figured before school started back up again and I’m swamped with papers, I’d reach out to O for a double - she’d gladly drag along Raven.”

“Okay.” Bellamy sounded unsure of himself.

“I’m sorry, I should go.” She fumbled with the keys half hanging from the ignition.

He slowly climbed out of the car,. His hand rested on the passenger door’s frame. “Clarke, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here okay?” He stood on the front lawn as she pulled out of the driveway and down the road.

As she progressed back to her house, she tried to rationalize that she ultimately made the right decision. That whatever seemed to be happening this summer wasn’t real. It was all in her head. But for a moment she entertained the thought of ending it with Cillian. As her mother said, this summer she changed. But unlike Abby’s opinion, she changed for the better. She had friends for once, outside of Wells of course. She stood up or herself for the first time in a long time by quitting the library. She learned to be open with someone, she learned to be open with Bellamy and that conversation they had just now was the fakest conversation they have ever had. She knew more about him than she did about anyone else in her life. And he knew more about her than anyone else in her life did. She never once lied to Bellamy Blake until tonight.

Yet everything she told him tonight was a lie. 

Turning on her blinker, Clarke made the first U-turn she could, flying back down the highway towards Old Factory Lane. Maybe he hadn’t left for the food truck yet. She slowed down the road but as she neared the house, there was a sedan parked behind the motorcycle. A tall, lean brunette climbed out of the passenger seat. Her hair cascading in perfectly styled waves. The strided up the three porch steps and let herself in. Echo.

He was getting back together with Echo, just like she was getting back together with Cillian. Everything would be right in the universe once more.

* * *

Her mother planned to host a fundraiser at their home to raise money for children with cystic fibrosis. The weeks leading up to the fundraiser, landscape architects covered almost every inch of their backyard turning it into a marvel of flowers and shrubberies. A topiary wonderland. Cleaning services swarmed, scrubbing the home meticulously from bottom to top and then top to bottom.

Everything looked perfect but six days prior to the fundraiser, her mother’s usual catering company - the owner was unavailable back in June, which was why Abby had to hire Dawn - quit. Her mother in a frenzy, nearly knocked the door of her office into Clarke’s face. She asked for Diyoza’s number to take on the job. Clarke wanted to say no, that Diyoza hadn’t worked a job since the Fourth and six days wasn’t nearly enough time to prepare. She took in her mother’s appearance. Bags under her eyes, hair spilling out of her bun, and distinct frown lines. Instead, she offered the number. Diyoza agreed to the job, so long as Abby understood she wouldn’t be getting wagyu beef or fugu on fine china. There wouldn’t be anything fancy shmancy (actual quote by Diyoza).

The night before the party, the company utilized to rent tents, tables, and chairs arrived. As they arranged the backyard, one of the men mentioned how a storm was brewing and she may want the tables and chairs placed inside the house rather than outside. It was expected to hit around the time of the party. Her mother would hear none of it. Whenever the storm was brought up, she would immediately shut it down.

Maybe her mother should have adhered to the warnings.

The storm racked through the backyard, overturning tables and chairs. Even one of the tents lost three of the pegs holding the canopy in place, the fabric dancing maniacally in the wind. Several people had called frantically asking if the fundraiser was canceled to which her mother vehemently denied. Diyoza got everyone to work the moment she barreled through from the kitchen. Octavia, Murphy, and Miller were on rearranging the living room, the dining room and the den to allow for patrons to mill about easier. Stools, side tables, even the armoire in the dining room were quickly locked away in either her mother’s office or in the guest room. Small, circular tables were brought in from the backyard, Diyoza said it would give the room a bistro vibe - that they had planned to be indoors all along. Raven was on ambience, She dimmed the lights to a soft glow, she and Clarke hastily dried down the tables and laid out table clothes. They found a box of battery operated candles shoved into the back of the van. Raven decorated each table with a candle incase the storm knocked the power out. Clarke went to find air fresheners to hide in plain sight for when the room became stuffy and overcrowded. Her mother gazed out at the raging storm. Several guests parked their cars on the street but no one dared exit their vehicle. “It’ll be good.” Clarke said softly, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Diyoza’s the best. She runs a tight ship amidst the chaos.”

They intended on Miller being on the bar that night and the rest catering but plans changed and Diyoza broke her rule. Octavia would stand by the door, which Diyoza was quite adamant about  _ standing in place _ , with champagne to greet each guest. Tipsy guests meant they would pay less attention to the crowdedness of the home. Once a substantial amount of guests had arrived, Octavia would be back on dry trays.

Diyoza would work double time on appetizers, getting as many baking sheets in and out of the oven as possibly. Well-fed guests would maybe notice the crowdedness of their waistline but wouldn’t notice the crowdedness of the room. Hopefully.

And little baby Hope was on sleeping in her carrier in the kitchen. She was already killing it at her job.

“Oh my god, fuck this-”

“Octavia!” Diyoza warned but the brunette ignored her aunt. She quickly relayed her tray to Murphy, nearly toppling the glasses in the process. Then stormed across the living room towards Clarke.

“Do you really not want to be with my brother? Because I’ve watched you two dance around each other all summer and it was both really fucking cute and really fucking pathetic. If you truly want to be with Cillian, okay sure whatever I’ll support you, but if you’re getting back with that dipshit-”

“Octavia!”

“-just because he’s safe and he’s what you know, that isn’t healthy. Hon, he dumped you for using the word love. Like I’m sorry, you voluntarily want to be with the same person who found you childish and petty and possibly a hindrance in his future endeavors? What was he firing you as a girlfriend?”

The room was silent. She turned to look at Murphy and Miller but they both averted their gaze, focusing instead on the drapes and the wood flooring respectfully. Raven nodded quietly in the corner. Diyoza broke the silence when both her hands came up to hit herself in the face before letting out a groan. Her mother was the first to speak. “You didn’t tell me he ended things after you said you loved him.”

It’s not like it would have mattered, Clarke wanted to say. It’s not like any of this mattered. She saw Echo at their house that night. Why would he lie to her about going to work when Echo was clearly coming over. “He got back with Echo.”

“Did he tell you this himself?” Octavia asked incredulously. The rain outside began to lessen, but the guests remained in their cars as if observing the scene playing out in the Griffin's living room.

“No.”

Octavia left out a huff, tossing her head back. “Because you won’t talk to him. He broke up with her. Right?” The rest of the group agreed. “They both realized they wanted something else - someone else. Echo met this guy Ryker during her outpatient program. He’s a nice guy with Dissociative Identity Disorder. And Bellamy met you. They mutually decided they were better off apart.”

He was breaking up with Echo that night and Clarke happened upon him at possibly the worst moment. “Like I said, if you truly want to be with Cillian because you’re still in love with him, then do it. Don’t do it because it’s what you think you have to do. You’re allowed to be selfish.”

Raven knocked her shoulder gently into O’s, “I think you’ve made your peace. People are racing up the drive.” Instantly, Octavia put on a bright, toothy smile and grabbed her tray from Murphy. She held out her tray as each person entered almost as if she hadn’t grilled Clarke. Filited was more like it. She deserved to be happy. That’s what she told Bellamy the night at the cove, she and her mother deserved happiness for once.

She tugged on her mother’s wrist, thumb rubbing against an old, gold chain Abby wore. She led her mother towards their powder room and for the first time in three and a half years allowed herself to be honest. About everything: how the accident affected her; how she probably should have sought help and did call Vera the night before to set up her first appointment; how she hated pre-med and the hospital; and everything that happened over the summer. After she said everything she should have said before, Abby reached out and pulling her close. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t come to me about any of this. These past few years have been hard on us both.”

They had a nice good cry in the powder room. While Clarke fixed her now running mascara, Abby sat down on the lid of the toilet. “Your friend is blunt.” That’s Octavia for you. Doesn’t sugarcoat, tells you how it is. Apparently no disregard for an audience. “She cares about you.”

When Clarke finally pulled herself from the bathroom, she spotted the cropped brown hair of her ex. She could see Octavia glaring at him from her perch at the door. Guess she found out who Cillian was. Octavia’s eyes darted to meet Clarke’s. The brunette, lifting her knee minutely and then pointed subtly toward her crotch, mouthing ‘in the balls’. She was blunt alright.

Cillian found her within seconds, asking if they could go somewhere to talk. The rain had stopped but the clouds remained overhead, almost tauntingly. She led him through the kitchen where Diyoza pulled out more meatballs and Murphy eyed Cillian. Gaze scrutinizing every inch of him. Cillian looked tanner than the last time she saw him, clear skin radiating under the fluorescent lights. She led him out onto the back porch. The moment the backdoor shut, he began talking. He offhandedly mentioned how he missed her at the library back in July and it felt like a backhanded comment. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go with their relationship. He hoped they could both explain what they expected from their relationship in the coming year. What they saw for themselves.

What did she see for herself? Did she see herself returning to him arms open wide?

Cillian continued on, babbling about designing a list of pros and cons and things they expect from the other but Clarke's attention was focused elsewhere. From where she stood, she could make out a mess of dark curls through the kitchen window. Stepping further from the window, Bellamy's face came into view. He laughed at something Diyoza said and her fingers once more yearned for a paintbrush. His gaze turned towards where she and Cillian stood. The smile slowly disappeared from his face. He gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning on his heel and walking out towards the living room.

"Clarke are you listening?" Cillian asked, waving a hand in front of her face. "Are you feeling alright? I understand this uncomfortable and maybe even stressful-"

Clarke stopped listening, the window not allowing her a clear view of the living room. But from where she stood on the deck she did have a clear view of him walking towards his motorcycle. Without a word, she ran as fast as she could towards him. Her flats pounding against the walkway, her chest ached. She threw herself into his arms, almost overshooting him in the process but his arms slid around her waist. "I'm making an amendment." she heaved, trying to catch her breath.

Cillian called out to her from the backyard but she ignored him. Bellamy looked over her shoulder woefully at Cillian but her attention was solely on the man before her. "I'm making an amendment." She reiterated. 

"An amendment?" Bellamy repeated questioningly.

"For someone to win, they need to answer the question the other passed on."

For a beat, she thought he wasn't going to say anything but Bellamy half hopeful and half nervous asked, "If you could do anything right now, what would you do?"

Without hesitation Clarke grabbed the back of Bellamy's neck and tugged him down to her. If she could do anything, she'd kiss Bellamy Blake for all eternity. Lips parted as she pulled him even closer, their bodies flush against one another. She heard cheering coming from the house and Cillian’s voice drowned in the mix but she could care less.

“The idiots are watching.”

“Did I say to stop kissing me?”

“Bossy.” With a smile, he leaned back in to kiss her once more.

* * *

Her pencil scraped across the page of the sketchbook, trying to capture every line of his form. Bellamy’s bare back was exposed from the blanket slug low on his hips, arms curled around the pillow he tucked his face into.

“Are you drawing me sleeping?” His voice gruff, “That’s not creepy.”

She pulled the sketchbook closer to herself, pencil hovering over the page. “I’m out of practice. Need to get better before school starts up again.” She dropped out of the pre-med program the day after her mother’s fundraiser, immediately declaring art as her major. Her favorite subjects to draw being her coworkers - specifically the Blakes. Aurora did have some gorgeous genes. “I looked at the syllabus and saw portraits are near the middle of the semester. I have an idea for a portrait that I can’t get out of my head.”

Bellamy’s head rolled to the side to face her, dark eyes appreciating his button up she wore. The sleeves rolled up passed her elbows and the buttons barely done. “It’ll be from my point of view, looking down to where a head is in between my thighs.”

Her rolled her under him, provoking a squeak from her. “Would you like me refresh your memory so it’s easier to recreate?” He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, kissing her way across her thigh.

“As much as I would love that.” She dropped her leg back onto the mattress, “We have furniture shopping to do with your sister.”

He groaned, hanging his head, “That’s not fair. She gets you for the whole year. I get you for three more days.”

Surprisingly, when Clarke told her mother she would be hanging out with friends from Sanctum State, she didn’t fully lie. Octavia did in fact attend the university, but due to their vastly different majors of pre-med and anthropology, the two never met. That and the student population was massive, it isn’t uncommon to not be acquainted with people in your major and year. Clarke roomed in a single dorm during her experiences in college and Octavia’s previous roommate graduated that May. The two girls opted to live off campus together for the next two years. Clarke would be in her second senior year due to switching majors and Octavia completing a joint BA/MA program.

At the present moment, between the two of them they had three pieces of furniture: a blow-up ottoman Octavia bought at some dollar store her freshman year; Clarke’s microwave oven which she illegally had in her dorm room; and a single dining room chair they found on the side of the road. 

“Can you stop boning, we gotta go to Ikea!” Octavia yelled from somewhere in the house.

“I hate her so much.” Bellamy grumbled, rolling off of the mattress. Clarke stayed in bed a little while longer, watching him flit about the room grabbing clothes to change into. She pulled her exposed legs into her chest and rested her chin against her knees. Life this summer had been revitalizing. She saw Vera twice, and would see her once more with her mother this time before seeing the campus psychologist.

Her life continued on after the accident. She got to live and for once she felt like she could breathe. Her jean shorts were tossed onto the bed. “At least O cleaned out the back of her car. Otherwise you could probably just get a lamp in there.”

She likes to think Jake Griffin would have loved Bellamy Blake.

**Author's Note:**

> This story took way longer than I anticipated and I feel it took forty years off of my life to be able to complete this. Just omg fuck that took so long. At least it’s time for Bellarke Chopped, I love reading what everyone comes up with.
> 
> I’m on tumblr if y’all wanna come complain about how bellarke is still “platonic” @shen-gong-oops


End file.
